The studio had that temporary, thrown-together feel of a press junket: black curtains, a cheap rug, the Falcon and the Winter Soldier logo plastered on the backdrop behind you. Cameras blinked red in the corners, a boom mic hovered just out of frame, and the heat of the lights made the air heavy, almost sticky.

You were wedged into the middle of the couch, Danny on your left, Sebastian on your right, Anthony draped across the far cushion like he owned it. Water bottles and cue cards cluttered the little coffee table in front of you. Hours of interviews had left everyone restless, too loose to behave the way Marvel’s PR team probably hoped.

The interviewer, clipboard balanced on their knees, leaned forward with a grin. “Okay, quick one. Who was always late to set?”